


Lose My Breath

by therunawaypen



Series: Sherlock Tumblr Prompt Fills [42]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03e02 The Sign of Three, Greg is turned on by that, M/M, Mycroft running, Running, Spandex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 07:59:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therunawaypen/pseuds/therunawaypen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft doesn't go to John's wedding, instead he's working out. Greg reaps the benefits of that once he returns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lose My Breath

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya, please could you write a fic involving Mystrade and the Running Machine. Bonus points for Anthea involved somehow. x —thisreviewblog

He was not lonely, no matter what Sherlock said. People were disgustingly dim, they didn’t make for good company. It was enough that he was able to handle Sherlock’s company a majority of the time, let alone the morons he worked with.

Glancing down at the treadmill’s monitor, Mycroft couldn’t help but be satisfied to find that he had run a total of ten kilometers since Sherlock had called him last. It had certainly felt like he had run that far (if not further).

“So this is why you didn’t show up at John’s wedding.”

Mycroft didn’t need to look at the doorway to know who was standing there. His hearing was quite fine, after all, “Nice to see you again, Detective Inspector.”

The DI in question had his suit jacket off, casually draped over one shoulder, “You’re seriously running when you could have been at John’s wedding.”

“John and I…aren’t exactly on the best of terms.” Mycroft shook his head, stepping off the treadmill.

“What else is new? Neither of you are great at being on “the best of terms” with anyone.” Lestrade hung up his jacket on the nearest chair (much to Mycroft’s annoyance), “You would have been proud of Sherlock, by the way. Made everyone at the reception cry.”

“Is that an achievement one strives for at weddings?”

Greg rolled his eyes, “Don’t be a prat. Sherlock gave the most moving…and bizarre best man speech I’ve ever heard.”  He crossed his arms, looking at Mycroft, “And here you are…running.”

Mycroft didn’t say anything. Really, what was there to say?

“Though, I must admit, if I had known how great your arse looked in spandex, I might have dropped by sooner.”

The statement was blunt, crude, and completely unexpected. And it made Mycroft feel incredibly warm all over.

But he wouldn’t let the DI know that, “Just how drunk are you?” He replied calmly, turning to get a drink of water.

“Not drunk enough to not notice how red you are.”

“Well I did just run ten kilometers.”

“You aren’t short of breath.”

“Why thank you.”

“I could fix that.”

Mycroft sputtered when he felt Gregory ( _Lestrade!_ ) up against his back, his body firm (very…very firm) against his own. “I…what?”

There was a chuckle that tickled the back of Mycroft’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine, “Never thought I’d see the day when Mycroft Holmes became tongue tied. Now,” he continued, resting his hands on Mycroft’s hips, “what I meant was that I could fix that little issue of you not being short of breath…or being able to walk straight.”

Well, _someone_ was rather forward tonight. And something must have been wrong with Mycroft for even considering what he was about to do.

Mycroft quickly picked up his phone, dialing his assistant’s number, “Anthea? Yes, I’m going to need you to cancel all of my meetings tomorrow morning.”

There was a pause on the other end, during which time Gregory began to nibble on Mycroft’s ear.

Finally, Anthea answered, “ _What meeting, sir?_ ”


End file.
